


No One Said it Would Be Easy

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Destiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings, kiss, wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wishes that he could see all of Castiel, all of his true form and show him that he loves him regardless of what he truly looks like. First things first, he has to come out about loving him and then learn how to accept that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants Cas to remove the hand print scar from his shoulder, but ends up learning that Cas is more scarred than he could ever believe.

Dean's finger traced along the edge of the scar on his shoulder and he shivered as the difference in texture raised goose bumps on his flesh. He hated it, the raised hand print. It made him feel like he had been claimed, branded, by Cas and he didn't like how it made the women he shared one night stands with questionable. He couldn't explain it to them. He'd started having sex with his clothes on just to avoid them staring at it.   
He turned to Castiel, who was standing in the doorway, swaying slightly as he rarely did, usually when he had somewhere else he had to be but was remaining since Dean had called him there and had not yet said why.   
"So, uh." He didn't know how to say it and the angel was just standing there, staring at him, "This scar. I was wondering if you could, y'know, get rid of it?"  
Cas tilted his head at that, stepping forward, "The one from Hell."  
"Yeah."  
He reached out and rested his hand on the red skin, so smooth under his calloused hands. There was a hint of emotion in his eyes and Dean thought it may have been hurt as if the idea of removing the scar was an insult.  
"I must apologize." He took his hand away, "Not all scars are so easily removed."  
"Bullshit!" Dean spat. It was a lot louder, a lot angrier than he had anticipated. Cas stepped back as if he thought that Dean would hit him in his anger, "You removed every scar I ever had when you pulled me out of Hell. You've healed yourself in front of me a dozen times and never got a scar. This one should be easy."  
It was Cas's turn to be angry. He grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt, dragging him until their noses were inches apart.   
"That scar is from my touch on you in Hell, a surge of Grace against your flesh. I cannot remove that Grace from your body without causing a great deal of pain to either one of us."   
The words were calm but his eyes and his movements weren't. There was more that Cas wanted to say, Dean knew that, but he wasn't letting it out. And Dean was swallowing, hard, trying not to think about how much he liked it when Cas was in control like this, when the angel was inches away from him and he could smell him. He smelled like spring water and the Impala, blood and fresh air; the worst and the best things on the planet.   
Cas dropped him and stepped away, finally turning so that they weren't facing each other.   
"You're hiding something, Cas, I can see that." Dean whispered, "What is it?"  
The angel didn't say anything but Dean was sure he was about to vanish. He reached out, took his friend's shoulder in his hand and kept him there. The coat was cold as if Cas's body was freezing underneath it. Dean turned Cas's head, his finger on his chin, and yes, he was cold, as if his body had died long ago, and forced the angel to face him. His eyes were down though; he didn't want to make eye contact for the first time since they'd met.  
Whatever it was that Cas was hiding, it was hurting him.  
"Where are your scars Cas?"  
His big blue eyes flickered up to meet Dean's, just for a second and there they were once again, too close, breathing each other in. It was uncomfortable and at the same time as comfortable as Heaven. Cas pulled away from Dean's touch, but he didn't vanish, he just stepped back. His eyes were elsewhere, turning to John's journal on the bed.   
"I am more scarred than you ever were in Hell." He murmured, keeping his lips tight as his secrets escaped him. "They are hidden from your view, apparent only on my true form."  
"Can I see? I mean, I know that I shouldn't, but…" He had never cared about seeing Cas's true form before. He had been curious, yes, but he had never really wanted to see, not as badly as now. Knowing that Cas was scarred and damaged, he wanted to see, wanted to make it alright.   
"My true form would burn your eyes from your skull, Dean. You know this."  
He nodded. That was true. It didn't settle his curiosity though.  
"So your vessel doesn't get scarred at all?"  
"It is scarred, but it is not my true form so I do not mind it."  
Dean kept getting closer. The cold flesh of his companion was eerie and strange, but he wanted to warm him. The fear in his eyes of Dean finding out that he was damaged, he wanted to wipe it away. Those pink lips, Dean had never realized how pink they were, how soft they looked. It was strange. There was so much of Castiel that he didn't know.   
"Where?"  
What was wrong with him? He was feeling flustered, strange, and hotter than he had with any woman he'd met at a bar. Maybe it was the protective thing; he'd always liked that feeling. That he was strong and he was the only one that his partner could rely on. But Cas wasn't his partner, he was his friend, and he was an angel and he'd never felt this way for a dude anyway, regardless of whether or not Cas was actually a dude.   
He stepped back, trying to cool himself down. He didn't know what his body was doing but it was wrong, it wasn't him. Maybe he was getting sick, that was a far better explanation.  
Cas didn't answer him with words. He just placed his hand in the middle of his chest. He still wasn't making eye contact.   
Dean wanted to see and it was clear that Cas wouldn't show him. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them and suddenly he realized that he was sweating. Was the AC broken? It was muggy and awful. He wanted to take a cold shower, take off his shirt, do anything to cool down a bit. He moved the angel's tie, draping it over his shoulder and started working on the buttons of his shirt.  
Cas's hands were on him then, tight on his wrists, keeping him from continuing. Dean looked back at his face and Cas finally raised his eyes. He looked as if he were about to bolt, like a deer in the sights of a rifle. He was small and delicate and all of these things that Dean felt he had to protect. He was Sam when he was eight years old and he had fallen down and scraped his knee open. He was a shapeshifter the first time their skin peeled off. He was an angel trapped in the confines of Hell.   
It was almost as hot as when Cas had been strong, had grabbed him by the collar. Dean was leaning forward, not sure as to what he was doing. His hot and sweating forehead met Cas's and the cold dead skin cooled him in return.   
"It's okay Cas." Dean promised, his voice quiet, "I'm not going to judge you. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see. I want to make everything alright." And it was true. All of it.  
Cas swallowed hard and kept leaning against Dean, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly parted. Those lips. Had anyone kissed those lips without Jimmy behind them? Maybe that was what they needed to bring the heat back into the body, to make everything okay, and why was Dean thinking that? He pulled back as much as he could without disturbing Cas, his fingers once again at the buttons of his shirt.   
The shirt hung loose from his body and Cas still seemed small, like he would flutter away or cover himself up at any moment. Dean was staring, having pulled away and his eyes were burning. The scar on Cas, it was from him.   
Dean had decided to say yes to Michael and Cas was so hurt by that so afraid that everything he had done was for nothing, yet he still stood at Dean's side, always so loyal. Dean had never thanked him for that. He had handed him the box cutter, knowing that there wouldn't be enough time for him to paint the sigil in enough time to get Dean inside and to try to save Adam. Dean was the one who had cut the sigil into Cas's chest, the angel's fingers tight as he bit back the pain of it. He was almost human then and the pain was excruciating. Cas had cried and tried not to scream and kicked and bit his lip till it bled and squeezed Dean's arms until they were bruised purple.   
The sigil had scarred and it was pink and raised against his pale skin. It was all Dean's fault. He may not have been what gave Cas all of his scars, but he was the reason for this one.  
"Oh God, Cas." He covered his mouth with his hand, tears in his eyes, and he knew he was breaking the promise he had just made. But he wasn't judging Cas, it was him who had done wrong. "I'm so sorry."  
"I did not wish you to feel pain by it." Cas's eyes were on the ground and again Dean was sure he would vanish.   
"It's my fault you have it." Dean stammered, "I hurt you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't do anything right. I'm… I'm poison Cas. I can't stop but hurt you."  
The fear in Cas's eyes was starting to fade, being replaced with a softer expression. "You did what you had to. You are sorry for you remember only the bad that happened because of this scar. I try to keep that part small, my fear that you were not the man worthy of my faith and loyalty. I try to keep this scar as a reminder that you said no and that I was right to put my trust in you."  
Dean bit his lip, tearing his eyes from the red damage he had caused. He didn't look up until there was a cold hand on his shoulder. Cas was close to him again, too close and he could feel the cold air coming from his mouth as he spoke. "Try not to use this scar as a reminder of Hell. Try to use it as a reminder that I pulled you out of Hell."  
Dean leaned forward and it felt so good, so natural to have his lips against Cas's. They were as soft as they looked and they were cold as ice. Dean wondered if he could warm them up with his own mouth, his own lips, his own tongue. Cas wasn't moving, his lips static. He didn't know how to kiss and he stood there, letting it happen. Dean was growing needy with it, reaching forward, kissing harder, trying to get Cas to move against him.   
It worked. Cas stepped back and his eyes were wide. Panic crashed into Dean's head. What had he just done? This was Cas! His friend, his male friend that he wasn't at all interested in. He liked women, that was all, and here he had been, kissing Cas, wanting him to kiss him back and there were other things in his head. Things he wanted to do with him.   
"Cas I…" he started, but he couldn't think of anything. He had no excuse.  
"I'm sorry Dean." Cas shook his head and there was such sorrow in his words, as much as the emotionless angel could muster, "I can't."  
Dean thought he heard the sound of wings as Cas vanished.  
He put his hand on his shoulder, feeling the raised flesh under his shirt. There was almost a smile on his face. Cas was right. He had pulled him out of Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Raphael. He, she, Dean didn't know the proper pronouns, was standing just a few feet away from him, back turned. How easy it would be, for him to just walk up and stab the junkless dick in the back and be done with it, if only he had an angel blade. Just one motion and it would all be over, the war in heaven, the excuse Cas was using to stay so far away. Dean knew why he was really hiding away. Dean had kissed him, he hadn't even thought about it, just closed a few small inches, and touched Cas's lips with his own. Cas said that he couldn't and then vanished, so Dan was pretty sure that Cas wasn't into it. Neither was Dean, it was just an accident, but still, he missed the little nerd being beside him.  
"I brought you a gift." Raphael coolly said.  
Dean shifted his weight, wishing he at least had some holy oil or something. "Oh?"  
"You wish to see Castiel's true form, isn't that right?" Raphael finally turned to see him look at him. Dean suddenly felt small, so very small, beneath the power that was within the archangel. He would have been crazy not to have been terrified of it. He remembered feeling like this the first time he'd seen Cas, but that feeling hadn't been this strong, not by a landslide. "It would be impossible for you to see him in his entirety, but I can give you a taste."  
It was true. Dean did want to see what Cas really looked like, and it was more than just curiosity. Cas had told him about how scarred and damaged he was and Dean wanted him to feel that it was okay, they both had scars, even if they weren't so easily seen.   
"Yes." Dean muttered.  
Raphael stepped towards him and his legs were aching with the need to run away. The archangel stared at him coolly as it put a hand to his head. Dean fell to his knees, his eyes rolling up in his head, the pain a bright light cracking his skull. It was like death, like being hit by a train, like when Lucifer beat his face in, but it was just one light touch. Dean was gasping, but no air was entering his lungs.   
The pain vanished as quickly as it came and with it went Raphael.   
What had he gotten himself into?

"Um, I pray to Castiel, who art fighting for all of our lives in Heaven, can you shake some feathers and get down here? I had an encounter of the archangel kind."   
Cas was standing behind him and he sighed, his eyes sliding down. He wanted to turn, to see Cas, but he didn't. He didn't want to make the little guy any more uncomfortable than he already was.  
"What happened?" Cas's voice was as rough as usual, but it was distant. He was standing by the motel door. Normally he would be standing right beside Dean, too close, so close it's hard not to kiss him just by wavering. He really wasn't comfortable then.  
"Raphael came. We didn't fight, we didn't do much of anything." Dean swallowed. "He touched my head and well…" he turned.   
Cas was standing by the door, looking as he always did, all stick straight posture and emotionless face, ruffled hair and wrinkled tie. But there were wings. Large, silver wings, coming from his back. They were folded and large against him, the feathers tipped in black. They looked natural on him, beautiful. He looked like an angel. For the first time, Dean thought he looked the part.  
"What happened when Raphael touched you?" Cas sounded small, like he was uncomfortable with Dean's staring for once.  
"Your wings." Dean muttered, stepping forward, "I can see your wings."  
The color drained from Cas's face and before Dean could get another word out, he had vanished.

The next time Dean saw Cas he didn't even see him. Sam had called him in a moment of panic. They thought they were facing a few demons but it turned out to be more than just a few. It was a bar full. Dean didn't like it, demons were getting too social. It used to be that you wouldn't see demons within a hundred miles of each other.   
Dean was pinned down by the neck by some handsy chick and Sam was on the other side of the bar, bleeding and gasping. The wound wasn't bad, just some broken glass in his back and a large chunk in his hip, but it hurt and Dean wanted to be there, helping him through it. It was getting hard to breathe though so Sammy would have to take care of himself. Then there was a bright flash of light and the demon was dead.  
A few more flashes and the other demons were down, both them and their meat suits dead. Then Sam was healed up, the glass vanishing from his body. Even his clothing was mended.  
"Cas?" Dean asked the air, but the adrenaline was cooling and the bar was growing cold. He had left as he had come, invisible the entire time.

Sam was pacing, not sure of what to do. He hated it when Dean was gone, and he was stuck at home. He'd done all of the research they needed but Dean was still out there, flirting or drinking, he didn't know. These days drinking seemed to be a higher priority for him.   
He crashed onto Bobby's couch. The old man wasn't there either. It was just Sam and his thoughts. How long had it been since they'd seen Cas? It had been over a month since he'd saved them from the demon nest and even then he was hidden, just a force of energy. It was unlike him to vanish like that. Sam wondered if he was dead, killed in that war he was fighting, but he was sure they would know if that were the case. Surely, Cas had planned for that.   
What had Dean done? He knew he'd done nothing to scare the angel off, but Dean, well, he was reckless, he could have messed up, ruined their friendship and said nothing of it. Sam didn't like it. He hated being in the dark.  
"Sam?" Cas's voice was rough. He was leaning against the doorway and he looked tired, more tired than an angel should.   
Sam leaped to his feet, hurrying to the weakened angel's side. "Cas! What happened?"  
Cas fell forward, pressing his weight against Sam, his face against his chest. His hands were bloody as he gripped at the human's shoulders, trying to keep himself on his feet.   
"Where is your brother?"  
"Out. I don't know when he'll be getting back."  
"Good."  
Sam was blind to Cas's body, the angel was not letting him see what had happened, so his large hands explored, searching for damage. There was a sticky hole in his coat and as he pressed, he found that it went deeper than that, a large gash in his side. A little higher and on the other side of his abdomen there was a shaft of metal and Cas gasped as Sam touched it. He grabbed Cas by the shoulders and moved him to the couch that he had been resting in just moments before.   
Cas groaned as he lay down, the angel blade deep in his side. He was gasping and there was sweat on his brow. Sam looked around, not sure about what to do about it. He had to get the blade out, but if Cas screamed or cried or lost control for a moment, he could kill everything in an instant, his real voice that strong.   
He grabbed a piece of leather and placed it between Cas's teeth. The angel was trembling.   
"I have to pull this out, okay?" Sam explained.  
Cas groaned and tried to inch away from him, knowing how painful it would be. Sam held him down though, one hand on his shoulder, and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the blade.   
"Count of three. One!" Sam pulled and Cas's back arched as he moved with the blade. Sam pushed down harder and the blade was free, but now Cas was bleeding out Grace and blood. He applied pressure to the wound, taking it off of his shoulder as he dropped the blade to the ground. "It's okay Cas! I've got you! You're going to be okay!" The bleeding was too much though, Sam knew he wouldn't be able to stop it with pressure alone, he'd need to sew it up. "What do you need, Cas? Stitches? Surgery? What?"  
"Time." The angel groaned, "I can heal slightly, not much. This is a wound dealt with Grace, Grace cannot heal it as easily. I just need time and privacy."  
They both turned as the Impala roared into the drive, the gravel shifting under the tires. "Please, Sam." Cas muttered, "I cannot let Dean see me. Not like this."  
"Panic room?" Sam offered.  
Cas nodded and wrapped his arms around Sam's neck while the man lifted him. The angel was lighter than he had expected and he carried him easily down the stairs. The bed had been placed back along the side of the circular room, but the handcuffs were still there. Sam set Cas down on it and the angel groaned. He had been cold, too cold to be a living thing Sam thought, so he draped a blanket over him. The door opened upstairs.  
"Why don't you want Dean to see you?" Sam finally asked.  
"Raphael made it so he could see my wings. I do not wish him to look upon them."  
"Wait, he can see part of your true form without burning?"  
Cas nodded. "Also, he kissed me and I have been avoiding him since."  
Sam's eyebrows rose. So Dean had done something, but it wasn't something that he'd ever expected. Dean had always been strictly into women, well other than when he was 17 but Sam wasn't supposed to have known about that experiment. He'd kissed Cas? Cas probably didn't know what that meant and had blown it out of proportion but still, Dean kissed him? If it had been anyone else it wouldn't have been so surprising. Then again, Dean did have a habit of staring at Cas, for needing him almost as much as he needed Sam. Sam had felt that there was more to their relationship, but he never expected that Dean would do anything like that.   
"I..." Sam stuttered. "I have to go."  
He headed upstairs to greet a slightly drunk Dean.

Cas had actually fallen asleep by the time Dean made it down to the panic room. Sam hadn't said that he was there, he was too good to do that, but Dean knew. There was a bit of blood on Sam's hands and a splash of it on the leather couch, but Sam wasn't saying anything about it, and that meant he was either drinking demon blood again or he was hiding someone. If Dean was going to hide someone quickly, who was bleeding, he would have chosen the panic room. He waited until Sam was asleep, which took too long to make Dean think there was the possibility that he was wrong, and then climbed down the steps to the iron room.   
The door was closed so Dean opened the latch, looking through to see who was inside. Cas was lying there, breathing hard, a pool of blood seeping through the thin blanket that had been pulled over him. He was fully dressed and pale, the off lighting in there making him look paler and closer to death than he was. His wings were spread out in order for him to lie on his back in something akin to comfort, but it didn't look like it was working. Dean's eyes traveled along them, taking them in, if Cas woke up he'd surely vanish, and Dean wanted to see those wings before he left.   
While the wings were a tarnished silver tipped in black on the outside, the inside of the wings were paler, more akin to pure sterling silver, without a trace of blackness. They were speckled too, spots the color of his tie dotting the edges of the feathers like an owls or the brush of freckles. They were beautiful and they suited him. Strong, powerful, and a little bit off, just like him.   
He gasped and turned, clutching at the bloody pool in the blanket, trying to turn in his sleep as if he were trying to avoid a nightmare. Angels don't sleep though and that worried Dean more than the fear that Cas exhibited to him seeing those wings and the wound that was still bleeding. He opened the door and raced to Cas's side, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and looking down his body at the damage.  
Cas gasped again as he lifted the blanket, seeing the healed gash on one side, although the clothing over it was still torn, and the stab wound. The organs and some of the muscle had healed over, but Dean could still see it bleeding through the second half of the cut.   
There were feathers all around him, beautiful silvery feathers.   
Dean had always been too hands on for his own good. When he was a kid he'd stuck his fingers into the toaster and into the oven and into electrical sockets and into everything. He just had to touch. His fingers traced along the edges of one feather and he breathed through the silky smoothness of it. Why had Cas wanted to hide these from him? He flattened his hand and brushed down the length of a feather and Cas made a sound, drawing him out of his stupor.  
The angel folded the wing in his sleep and turned, letting it cover his body as he made it as small as he could. He was still asleep, but he was shivering and the sweat on his brow was even stronger. Dean didn't know if it was a good feeling or a bad one to Cas so he reached out once more, running his fingers through the smooth feathers. Cas crumpled in on himself, the shivers turning into tremors and tears shining, trapped in his eyelashes.   
"No." he murmured in the voice of one who's far away in a dream or a memory, "Don't touch them. I swear. I'm a servant of heaven. Of heaven, not of man. My loyalty is here."  
Dean pulled his hand away as if the wings were barbed. Dean had heard those words before, but not said like that, not being pleaded. 'I serve heaven, not man. And I certainly don't serve you.' It had been a long time but that was what Cas thought about when his wings were touched?   
"What happened to you?" Dean whispered.  
Cas's eyes flickered open and Dean took a step back. Cas was still a bit asleep, but he was waking up, fast, and Dean wanted to be out of there. He didn't want Cas to know what he had done, especially since he knew Cas didn't want Dean to see him like this.  
"Dean?" his voice was weak around its roughness. "I was hoping you wouldn't come in here."  
"Yeah, well, I'm an idiot." Dean tried not to notice how hurt Cas looked, even without the blood he looked as if Dean had damaged him, "I don't listen. Sorry. I'll leave now if you want."  
He was almost to the door when Cas spoke again, "Dean, why do you want to see them?"  
"Because" Dean thought out loud, "I've been lied to a lot in my life, been told that everything non human is bad and we have to gank it. I want to know the truth about you, want to see you for what you are. I want to know you're not hiding something from me."  
"Everyone hides things Dean. Even you. You hide things from yourself." Dean turned, looking to Cas once more. His wings were drawn in against his back, but one seemed unable to fold as well as the other. "You kissed me."  
"Yeah. I don't know what happened, Cas. I wasn't thinking."  
"You are not the man your father wanted you to be. You are kinder and better than that. You feel that your attraction is a negative due to the gender of my vessel, so you hide those feelings from yourself."  
Dean swallowed. So even Cas thought that he was gay for him.  
"It is fine if you are attracted to me, with or without my vessel, but understand that you could never act upon it. I am an angel of the lord, it is not permitted for me to be in a romantic relationship with a human being."  
"So you were avoiding me because of that? Why didn't you just tell me that was the case?" He was trying so hard not to stare at those wings.   
"No. I thought I should stay away due to the fact that I do not feel indifferently."  
Dean paused and all he could hear were those words, repeated over and over again in his head. So maybe he was attracted to Cas, that was nuts but okay, let's just say he went with it. Now Cas was saying that he had the hots for Dean?  
"I can't, we can't act on our feelings Dean. If the host found out that I was having emotions such as these…"  
"They'd do what?" Dean hadn't realized that he was walking back to Cas, but now his leg hit the side of the bed and he sat on the edge of it.   
Cas looked away from him and didn't say anything.  
"Cas." Dean leaned closer and his nose was mere inches from Cas's cheek, "What did they do to you? In your sleep, you said you served Heaven, not man, when I touched your wings."  
Cas turned back to him and his nose smacked into Dean's, "When they dragged me into Heaven I was punished for taking your side. They… they damaged my wings and much of my form. It is not pleasant to think about."  
"And they'll do that again if you love a human?"  
He nodded.   
Dean stood and moved so that he was sitting behind Cas, behind those silvery wings. Cas shifted, trying to force himself away without hurting himself too badly.  
"I'm not going to let them hurt you, Cas." Dean promised, "I'll kill them before they can."  
He didn't touch the wings, but laid his hand down on the space between them, right along his spine. "I want to see you. I know you don't want me to, but I want to make you feel better. I want you to know I'm okay with your wings, whatever happened to them."  
"They are not attractive, Dean. They have been made ugly. I do not want you to hate them. I do not want you feel that I am ugly."  
"From what I've seen, they're beautiful." Dean wrapped an arm around Cas's waist, being careful of his wound and drawing him back, so his face was flat against the angel's back.   
Without a word, Cas stretched them out. He had no reason to fight Dean on this; he knew that it wouldn't go anywhere. They would just say the same things over and over and nothing would be solved. He hated the feeling of Dean's eyes on them, studying every little discrepancy.   
As Dean looked them over he saw what Cas was so afraid of him seeing. They were beautiful from a distance, but up close Dean could see all of the pain in them, all of the ugliness that had been thrust onto them. There were feathers missing, ripped out so that they would never grow back. The bones of them weren't sitting right, having been broken many times and never being allowed to heal correctly. One didn't stretch out as much as the other, just as it never folded in as much, it couldn't. Dean stroked the jagged edge of one and tried to hold his anger back. He wanted to hurt someone, kill all of those who had caused this. Cas couldn't fly. He could vanish and reappear like his brothers, but he could not fly like an angel was meant to.   
"This is my fault." Dean choked out.  
"No." Cas bluntly said. His trembling had grown into quaking and he flinched with every single touch Dean gave him.   
"Why would Raphael let me see these?" Dean thought out loud.  
"He knew I would stay away from you and that if you saw them it would be damaging to me. I have been distracted. My fears of your judgment led to his having an upper hand in battle."  
"He's the one who stabbed you?"  
Cas nodded.   
Dean wrapped both of his arms around Cas's chest, under his wings and held him tight, his head hanging over one shoulder. As he rested beside Cas, the frozen feel of flesh against him he became aware of the wetness on the angel's cheek. He was actually crying about this. This angel that could hardly show emotion was crying and showing so much. Dean held him tighter.  
"Raphael doesn't know us very well, does he?" Dean whispered in his ear.  
Cas turned at that, his eyes an even more startling blue caused by the inflamed capillaries. He grabbed Dean's face, pulling his wings forward so that he could catch the human's lips with his own. When Dean had kissed Cas it had been light, timid, humble, when Cas kissed it was all need and desire and the want that he wasn't supposed to feel. It was hard and it was crushing and Dean could hardly breathe around Cas's lips, his tongue, the amount of love that was being shoved down his throat. Cas had never kissed someone and now Dean could tell how much he'd wanted to.   
Dean finally pulled away, gasping, and Cas looked guilty. Dean leaned back, looking down those wings again. There was so much damage, scars on the flesh where the feathers had been ripped out. He ran his fingers down them and slowly spent the whole night kissing those wings, his lips soft and light against every old wound. Cas may have cried and he may have trembled and flinched, but he never pulled away. He let Dean take his time to kiss every flaw until it was made perfect in both of their eyes.


End file.
